


All That Remains

by immorticia



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Instability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 02:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4729289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immorticia/pseuds/immorticia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months after Blackwood Pines and eight friends struggle to overcome the trauma suffered that night. Although they have each other to quicken the healing process, scars remain and the threat of fresh wounds arises when they find out their skirmish with the cursed and forgotten is nowhere near finished, not at all.</p><p>Ashley POV. Josh alive & recovering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Remains

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Until Dawn. I'm just here to have a good time.
> 
> Typical trigger warnings originally in the game apply, as well as discussion of mental illnesses such as depression, anxiety and schizophrenia cropping up throughout the fic.

They all witnessed the unimaginable; what parents told their children as cautionary tales, what those children then whispered over torchlight at sleepovers or read in chain mail sent on to the next ten unlucky people. All words - harmless words - because the fear feeds off superstition and when they don't believe there's a monster under the bed then they won't see one. While they fabricate fear's face in their nightmares or catch a glimpse after sneaking into the movie theatre every Halloween, they never had to run from it.

They all witnessed the unimaginable. The monster below the bed crept out from under and screeched in their faces, pulling the wool from over their eyes; regardless of whether they wanted to believe or not, the monster was real and left them black and blue and red all over.

What the parents never warned them about was the aftermath. The ghosts left behind that hovered over their heads every day like a noose able to lower and choke at any time, able grip them at the screaming brakes of a bus, wake them in the rare nights of restful sleep, prod and poke and whisper it was their fault.

Unlike Hannah, Guilt wasn't a monster slain that night.

 

* * *

 

“Fuck Creepypasta!” Mike's easy enough to hear across the next few tables, inquisitive looks sent his way as the clatter of a phone being casually discarded atop a plastic surface resounds throughout the cafateria.

“Why do you even bother reading that shit? It's the same thing every time, guy buys some Nintendo cartridge at a garage sale and – I don't know – he ends up head first in a wood chipper.”

“Jeez, Chris...” Ashley interjected.

“What? It's true, ninety-percent of this crap is the same set up. It's like déjà vu but ten times more annoying,” he spoke, with no shortage conviction.

“That might be true but could you be a little less... Tarantino the next time you criticise some entry-level horror story by a thirteen year old?”

“Oh, right, yeah. Sorry, Ash.” He looked down sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, I doubt it's a wood chipper exactly but...” he reaches for Mike's phone to test his hypothesis but before his fingertips even brush the screen it's snatched away from his reach.

“Not so fast, big guy. You're not gonna get a glimpse of this girl for the entirety of your long but very, very unfulfilling life.”

“My life is very, very fulfilling, thanks.”

“Your phone is a girl?” Ash looked more disgusted at this statement than the visual Chris instigated earlier. “Did he really just gender his phone?” she whispered to Chris with a coy smirk.

“Do you think it's called Jess?” he whispered back. Ash snorts, teeth biting her bottom lip as she tries to suppress the sound with the palm of her hand, Chris gets that affectionate, entranced look in his eye at the sight and he can't help the smirk that mirrors her.

Mike looked at the two as if he's just smelled something rancid.

“Okaaay, well my class starts in two minutes so if you nerds are done with your mating ritual thing, I'll be seeing you later.” He pocketed his phone then gave a quick salute before swaggering away, Chris and Ash merely glanced up at him and nodded as he left but only for a second, their attention taken by each other, for the most part.

It was moments like these when Ash thought Chris was going to close the short distance between them and kiss her, they're already practically nose to nose as it is, huddled into each other like school kids giggling over secrets in the playground. She almost closes her eyes in anticipation but instead they catch sight of his fingers as they walk their way to her hand and lightly trace over her knuckles; it's a hazy, ticklish sensation but not in the way that makes her squirm.

“So me and Sam were going to see Josh tomorrow...”

Her gaze tore from their hands on the table to his face.

“And we were wondering if you wanted to... come with?”

The sensation doesn't feel so pleasant anymore and she squirms, hand retreating from his to her lap.

“He really is sorry, Ash, and he was... going through a lot of shit at the time. You were friends with him before – nothing's changed,” he said, tone insistent but gentle.

“Everything's changed.”

He inhaled deeply, as if mentally tip-toeing around what he shouldn't say. “I'm not saying you have to forgive him straight away just... hear him out. He's getting better, the psych ward he's in is great, there's a huge garden and his therapist says he's making progress. Please, Ash, just give him a chance?”

She avoided looking directly at him, tucking her hands under her thighs, heel tapping the ground as her leg bounces up and down.

“And you never know, talking about it might actually help? You won't know until -”

“Chris, I just -” she starts then swallows thickly. Part of her can't help but think about how easy Emily's solution was; to completely alienate herself from everyone involved after it happened. She'd even heard she was moving to a different college, which wouldn't have been surprising for anyone that suffered what they had, let alone someone who'd been threatened with a gun and death by the same guy who she once called 'honey'.

But then the rest of them considered it a blessing they all lived in the same city, all lived within a few miles of each other and could drive over at the drop of a text. Maybe it was survival instinct but Ashley would never trade them for anything.

Still, Chris waited patiently for Ash's reply, searching her face for a single twitch – a sign.

“I just need a bit more time,” she'd said it a thousand times before but this was the first time it felt like there was any truth behind it. “I'm getting there, I promise but if it's going to help I need to go alone. The entire way. You can't drive me there or anything, I-I need to see him by myself. Okay?”

She finally looked up at him and rested her hand on his.

“I think I understand but if you need anything just shout and I'll be there,” he assured her, turning his palm around from the table to meet hers, fingers enclosing around her hand.

“Literally? I don't even have to call I just... yell your name until you're at my door?” she prodded wearing a playful smile.

“Yep, I have an entire sixth sense devoted to you.” He leaned towards her slightly.

“Really? I always thought your sixth sense was god-awful dad jokes and losing at Mario Kart.”

“Uh, ouch. First of all, those don't even make sense as a sense and second of all, just because you win Rainbow Road once it-”

She abruptly closed the short distance between them and stumps him with a kiss, and it's soft and sweet and slow – that same hazy, ticklish sensation lingering on her lips after they leave his. He blinked a few times, mouth agape as if speech had suddenly become a torrid task.

“... It doesn't mean your... You know what? I think my brain just completely decided to up and leave my body.”

“Funny how that happens.”

“Yeah...”

He looked at her lips once before tenderly kissing them again.

 

* * *

 

The girls' dorms were eerily quiet, usually the the faint bassline of a stereo beats throughout the hall from an opened door, paired with muffled conversations that Ashley only manages to catch a single sentence of as she walks past, 'I think he's been having issues with his mom again, I mean his phone's buzzing every five seconds with her on his back,' and 'Oh my god, Becca, Aaron sent me another dick pic – what the actual fuck! Ugh, I'm telling his mom again,' being the most recent snippets. It's not like she's nosy per se, overhearing that kind of talk is inevitable here.

Except there's no talk today, everyone's doors are shut tight and she feels like a trespasser in a place where she holds the key to right in her hand.

That's until she turns a corner and sees a figure waiting outside her door; blonde hair hanging in small waves just above shoulders, clad in a mini dress covered in a blue plaid pattern. Jess cut her hair shortly after that night. She smiled brightly as Ash approached and met her halfway with a 'Hey!' and a hug.

Their hugs were always longer than a quick greeting, only by a few seconds. It's warm and grounding, and Ash doesn't realise how comforting it is until she feels a hand on her back and Jess pulls way, her smile probably holds enough power to light the entire grid of Philadelphia.

“Hey, how did the shoot go?” Ash asks and smiles back amicably.

“That's what I came to talk about, actually. I would have texted or called but I don't know,” she purses her lips and looks down, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I-I... really needed to actually talk with someone – not just, like, someone - a friend.”

Ashley's brow creased together in concern for a moment before she smiled again. “Right, yeah, totally. I think I have some ice tea inside – it might be a little less ice, though.”

“That's fine. I'm so thirsty I could drink friggin' bath water,” she laughed, humourlessly. Still, Ash laughed back politely while unlocking her dorm door then shut it tight behind them once in the room.

She liked to think she'd made her bedroom homey enough; a few book posters set up to cover blank white walls (if she stared at the colour enough all it did was remind her of snow, and all snow reminded her of was Blackwood Pines), apart from those there was an array of cushions sporadically varying in colour on her bed, a canopy of fairy lights shaped as butterflies above it and a myriad of photos pinned to the corkboard above her desk – all including an assortment of their friends. It was probably a conscious effort on everyone's part, to try and replace intrusive memories with captured moments taken over the past few months.

It seemed to be working.

Whenever she remembered Chris pointing a gun to his neck all she had to do was glance at a photo of him on their first date, it was only something she'd taken by pure instinct in a McDonald's they'd stopped at late one night, he still thought it was funny to imitate a walrus with two fries stuffed in his mouth (and she did, too, in all honestly). The humble gallery also consisted of abrupt selfies taken by Jess, whether it was at a party or in the library everyone included in the shot immediately pouted and gave the camera wanton looks, Mike perfected the pose. Pictures taken with Matt and Sam were much more modest, they both smiled effortlessly when they weren't posing like goofs beside local landmarks, everyone unanimously agreed if Sam was drunk enough she'd be able to climb the Benjamin Franklin Memorial.

None of Ashley's photos had Emily in, and Josh was nowhere to be seen in any of the pictures on display.

“The Little Women one is new,” Jess pointed to a particular poster of four illustrated girls against a solid periwinkle blue back drop, surrounded by twining vines of flowers.

“Yeah, my mom found it in an old book store,” she said, retrieving a bottle from her desk and offering the beverage to Jess.

“Your mom always sounds so nice,” Jess mused before accepting the ice tea and gulping it down without a single pause for breath. Ash shrugged with a half-hearted smile, unable to think of a response.

“They didn't even have water at the shoot?” she asked instead.

Jess drained the bottle, gasping lightly while she wiped her mouth. “Well, yeah but you barely have time to breathe - when there's not a camera in your face there's someone with a powder brush instead and everything's happening at the same time all the time. Even my councillor was unsure about it when I told her before, she thought it might... kind of be a sensory overload? But I didn't want to... not try at all. I can't give up on this, Ash, especially since my parents basically kicked me out for prioritizing it above college.” She sat down on the bed, the yellow and white of her dress contrasting with the purple blanket as she stared vacantly at the empty bottle, picking the label with pastel pink nails. Ashley took a seat beside her wordlessly, only listening. “I was so relieved once it was over, I just changed and left. It was... god, it was suffocating. I thought I was going to have a panic attack or totally freak out or something.”

There's a brief pause as Jess sighed heavily.

“Ugh, and I left my sweater there too!” Jess drops the empty bottle and her head falls into her hands. “Fuck! I feel so out of it – out of everything. It's like what happened then just has to fuck up everything else now too. I used to be fine with this shit, everything used to be fine but now...”

Ashley rested a hand on Jessica's back and sighed soundlessly before speaking.

“We can always go back to get your sweater... but I get it, Jess, really. Sometimes therapy feels useless because we can't really tell the truth, no one believed any of us to start with-”

“Right?!” she momentarily raised her head to look at Ash before it fell back into her hands.

“But we all have each other, we all survived and we're safe. We all know the truth.” Ashley peered down, rubbing Jessica's back in a way she hoped was soothing. Jess huffed then dragged her hands down her cheeks before crossing her arms.

They both remained quiet for a while because sometimes the silence wasn't stifling, not with a friend. Somewhere in another dorm a radio was turned on, muffled voices carrying across airwaves that can't be deciphered by the two girls, they hear fleeting laughter outside the door and the sun setting beyond the horizon permeates through the window and saturates the room in shades of orange and pink. Jess' hair shimmers white and gold and gradually it feels like everything is back to how it's supposed to be. That everything is going to be fine, without either of them having to tell each other so.

“Do you think Sam gets out of class soon?” Jess asked, interrupting the quiet but not ruining the placid atmosphere at all.

“I don't know, I'll text her.”

“Text everyone in the group chat. It's been ages since we all hung out.” She picked up the bottle and aimed it at the trash can on the other side of the room, one eye shut tight.

It had been a week and a half, to be exact. They all understood the many obstacles of life got in the way: school, part-time jobs, therapy sessions, dates, football matches. While a week and half may not be so long considering the obstacles, it was still a noticeable passage of time and the absence was felt more and more as the days went on.

Ash typed a succinct message about meeting at the usual place, the bottle clattered into the trash, followed by Jess' exclamation of 'Boom!' and it wasn't long before everyone in the group chat responded.

“They're all game,” Ash relayed the information with a grin.

Jess immediately hopped up from the bed. “Great! Even Matt, too?”

“Yeah, he said it may take him a half hour but he'll be there for sure.”

Jess nodded and stood by the door while Ash retrieved her bag. The two make their way out of the dorms, talking and laughing like normal girls their age should do, bubbling with suppressed anticipation and calmed with the belief that they could overcome whatever adversity was hurled their way from now on as long as they were surrounded by the right company.

They arrived at Rittenhouse Square park first, soon followed by Mike and Chris then Matt and Sam. It never takes them long to ease into the simplicity of meeting up with nothing planned, just talking about their professors or new music or goals untouched by the possibility of death or trauma. By all appearances they look like a perfectly average group of friends whiling away the evening together especially when Matt pulls out a soccer ball and they improvise on setting up goal posts with their bags.

“Suck it, linebacker!” Mike practically bellowed with his arms raised high. It's only his second goal but it's still one above his opponent. Matt shook his head in denial.

“Don't get so cocky, you just got lucky,” he retorted.

“Really? Because – wait, what's that?” Mike cupped his hand behind his ear, as if trying to hear something in the near distance. “Oh, right. It's just the sound of you totally losing and acting like a total pussy because of it.”

“Hey, guys, can we not... with the whole sexist-derogatory-guy-talk thing?” Sam called from her perch under a tree.

“Yeah, Michael, can't say that was really a stand-up guy thing to say,” Matt smirked.

“Okay, that is true and I'm sorry but it still doesn't take away from the fact that you're gonna be buying all of us drinks tonight after you inevitably lose.”

“I wouldn't be so sure, it's not like any of us have the cash to -”

Somewhere in the midst of the small spout, Jess had impishly sprinted onto the field and successfully dribbled the ball past the two boys, giving a definitive kick that sent it flying through the goal space and bouncing off a tree. Sam and Ash cheered while Chris remained preoccupied with scrolling through his phone.

“Haha! Who's the real contender now, huh, boys?” Jess rested her hands on her hips with a smug look, twirling a lock of hair around her finger innocently. Both boys looked up dumbfoundedly but it was only mere seconds before they both sprung into action and chased after the ball. At least, that's what Jess thought before Mike wrapped an arm around her waist and effortlessly swung her around, eliciting a squeal of shock and delight. Matt returned with the ball at his feet, easily speeding past the couple with a grin that radiated all the confidence of a renown sports star that he's been throughout his entire life.

“We can't just let Matt win, right?” Sam whispered, plotting with Ash with a glint in her eye.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Ash returned the glint, quickly tied her hair up in a ponytail with a band on her wrist then the two ran towards Matt who was halfway to the goal line. Chris looked up from his phone, brow creasing with curiosity. Matt caught the plotting girls in his peripheral and his grin drops flat in a split second.

“No way, no fucking way! No fucking way!” he exclaimed in protest before speeding up his already hurried steps. Ash took on a wide stance in the goal, arms outstretched while Sam hovered behind Matt, keen eyes searching for a brief opening to steal the soccer ball from his domain.

“Yeah! Destroy him!” echoed from Jess.

Matt suddenly stopped, swinging his heel back which Sam narrowly avoided by dodging aside but before she can steal the ball he kicks it and it soars. Ash reaches as far as possible, fingers stretching to block the direction the ball was flying towards.

Everyone watches with bated breath.

The ball smacks into Ashley's hand.

Matt fell to his knees, clutching his head with both hands while cheers resounded through the park, despite Chris being the furthest away his is the loudest and Ash can't help but beam when her foot hits the ground.

“Wait, which team is Ash on?” Chris asked.

The cheering immediately ceased and Matt perked up.

“Everyone for themselves!” Sam yelled.

A riot broke out. Everyone ran, crawled and dived for the ball at Ashley's feet and her only option is to jump aside to avoid the incoming tackle of both Sam and Matt – the two both have an equal chance, wrestling over it on the floor but it's Sam that pries it from Matt's grip and swiftly rises to her feet, heading for the opposing goal. Meanwhile, Mike advanced towards her with Jess still plastered to his side under his arm.

“Oh my god, Mike, honestly?!” she protested in a fit of giggles. “You know this means you're on my team now, right?”

“Of course, babe,” he spoke as if it was obvious knowledge.

“Since when did this turn from soccer to football?” Matt shouted after Sam, who was likely about to score in the next few seconds. Matt never received an answer.

The sunset previously on the horizon darkened as the last remnants of twilight settled over the group of rowdy teens who showed no signs of stopping their game any time soon, only one was exempt from the match and instead recorded it through the lense of his phone. Ashley casted him an encouraging smile and nodded in indication for him to join in but he shook his head with a forced look of dismissal, face scrunching up behind his glasses as he looked down but still held the phone up to capture the ragtag mess of college kids skidding and swarming around their field like puppies playing in a pen. Ash approached Chris and crouched down so when he looked up his line of sight had no choice but to settle on her.

“Come on, you're missing out.” She hoped she sounded at least a smidgen enticing.

“Nah...” he exhaled, “Sports ain't really my thing.” He gestures with a twirl of his finger towards his glasses.

“Really?” she raised an eyebrow, clearly having none of it.

“Yeah, it was ugly – like something in a Blink-182 music video or something. The ball smacked straight into my face like shoom,” he emulated the exact moment by punching his cheek in slow motion. “Then my glasses fell off and cracked.”

She didn't laugh but gave him an incredulous look. “That sounds more 'Teenage Dirtbag' to me.”

“Exactly,” he pointed at her with single finger and winked. “Would it be... totally weird if I said I listened to that song a lot before we... got together?” He cast his gaze downwards at the ground and started fidgeting, rolling his phone over and over in his hand. She blinked at the unwarranted confession, it catching her off-guard.

“No. The only reason I'd think that's weird is because neither of us even like Iron Maiden but I did listen to Nicest Thing – you know, the Kate Nash song... a lot.” She felt a heat rise to her cheeks and tried to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear in her own shy moment of confession, which looked pretty damn embarrassing considering there was no stray piece of hair to actually tuck behind her ear.

“Oh. I, uh, can't say I've heard that one.” This time it was his turn to directly look at her while she kept her green eyes glued to ground, toying with a blade of grass between her forefinger and thumb.

“It's pretty sad. A lot sadder than your pining theme, at least.”

He nodded and glanced at her downcast face then the grass in her finger and a short silence falls between them (save for the consistent screams and roars of triumph behind). Standing up, he left his phone on the floor and swept his jeans down.

“Lucky for us, we don't have to listen to our own personal pining themes anymore,” he smiled with a raised brow, cheeks tinted pink slightly. Ashley took to her feet too and grinned back.

“Right, yeah. No more pining.”

“Team Chris and Ash from here on out?”

“Without a doubt,” she nodded affirmatively then took his hand as they joined the game.

“What?! No fair, that's two teams of two versus two teams of one!” Matt protested from his stance of trying to drag Sam who was face-flat on the floor by her ankles to loosen the ball in her grip.

“Whatever, me and Jess are pretty much done anyway,” Mike stated, panting lightly as he set her back down on the ground.

“Yeah, all that adrenaline just makes me wanna make out,” Jess mentioned casually as she stretched her waist around from side to side. At this, Mike picked her up again and she giggled, the two fleeing to the sidelines as the remaining group continued the game. No one pays attention to their antics after that, them being the announced king and queen of PDAs and staying true to Jess' word.

“So what's the story, morning glory?” Chris enquired.

“What?” Matt's face scrunched up in confusion.

“The score.”

“Oh! Well, Team Mess is at four, Team Sam at six, Team Matt at five and you guys... one,” Matt replied as Sam wiggled out of his loosened grasp.

“We don't get a combined team name?” Ashley genuinely sounded disappointed.

“Sure you do, Team Chrash!” Sam yelled with an impish grin before she scrambled to her feet and headed for the goal past the aforementioned team. Chris noded appreciatively and Ash quickly zoomed after Sam – while the redhead was no match for the blonde's speed, she was resourceful enough to capture the ball after Sam spiked it victoriously on the grass.

“Ooh, she's sneaky!” Sam crouched slightly in preparation to chase after the fleeing sneaky girl in question.

Ash made a beeline for the opposite goal, the ball tucked at her side. Halfway down the field Matt dived for her but not before she made an effort to toss the ball across to Chris – who just managed to catch it after stretching his arm out wide with lips tightened in determination. He sprinted and scored, throwing the ball down just before Sam grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back, his victory dance interrupted before it even had a chance to begin. The two tumbled to the ground, similar to Ash and Matt earlier – who's helping the girl back on her feet and apologising for being so competitive. Chris does the same, worrying over the damage he may have dealt on Sam's shins by falling on them but she waves him off dismissively. His glasses remained unscratched and unscathed.

Yet once everyone notices the stray ball sitting on its own, out of anyone's grasp, all apologies are forgotten.

Chris tackled Sam to stay on the ground, not so much tackled as flopping on top of her horizontally across her vertical frame. She retaliated by thumping him on the back.

“Jesus Christ, Chris, how heavy are you?!” she strained, struggling to even sit on her elbows. Chris makes his best attempt to ignore her escape tactic but his wince grows deeper and deeper each time a fist collides with his shoulders.

“Team Chrash forever! All your ball... are belong to us,” he grimaces at the blunt pain being ruthlessly inflicted upon him. “Fucking – what are your fists even made of, Sam?!”

Ashley, spurred by the sacrifice of her boyfriend, sprints after the ball, Matt close on her tail and gaining fast on her. Her denim jeans are already stained green down her thigh from grass and she's not planning on having anymore stains join that one, arms pumping fast at her sides while the soles of her baseball boots pound against the ground.

Mike and Jess remain oblivious to the raw struggle of each team, content in their own bubble with him reclined on his back, head resting on her lap as she gazes down at him and they occasionally grin and laugh as if there's not a nineteen-year-old boy wailing over his bruised back a mere few feet from them.

Ashley tries to tune out the cries as much as possible as she draws closer and closer to the ball but two fingers tug on a belt loop and she's propelled backwards, her behind meeting the ground with a thud as Matt reaches for the ball. Chris suddenly shoots upwards, arms struggling to even lift his upper body off the ground but it only allows Sam to push him off her completely, then he collapses back down with a grunt, the entire expanse of his back throbbing and refusing to let him play on.

“I'm sorry... I couldn't avenge you, Ash.” He reached a hand out melodramatically towards his floored teammate.

“It's... okay,” she gasped, reaching a hand back out to him despite the lengthy expanse of space keeping them apart.

“Hey, uh, guys?” Mike's voice called and largely goes ignored by the couple accepting their loss and Sam wrestling Matt by trying to cover his eyes with her hands. “Guys!”

The four paused to look over at him. At some point he'd taken his phone out while Jess absent-mindedly ran her fingertips through his hair and whatever he'd been reading on his screen has his brow knotted in concern.

“Jesus, Mike, don't tell me you've been reading that Creepypasta bullshit again,” Jess sighed, rolling her eyes. She'd spared prying glances at his phone before but couldn't read it clearly from her angle.

“What? No – it's... I just got this super messed up email and I wanna know if you all got it too.”

“Why would we? None of us are subscribed to the National Narcissism Society,” Chris retorted.

“Harhar – no but, seriously. Just check your email. Trust me.”

They all do as he says, retrieving their phones from their bags situated by the goals, each wary of what they're about to read but curiosity overruling any hesitance that may have remained. Each phone screen illuminated the focused stares of each friend, already dimly lit from the park's pathway lamps in the foreboding darkness of night. To any onlookers out for an evening stroll it looks surreal; as if the teenagers are standing and holding a ritual that integrates their cellphones instead of candles.

Ashley opened her email, inspecting the most recently sent item in her inbox. The title reads as 'Do Not Be Afraid It's Over' yet the sender name reads as a single number five, something in her refrained for a few seconds while the others dived straight into scrolling through the message. She sees Sam's furrowed brow recede, eyes staring wide. Matt mouths a 'what the fuck' but judging by the subtle movement of his thumb, he still reads on. Jess' hand clasps over her mouth while Mike rests a hand on her shoulder and peers closer at her screen. Chris looks completely blank, lips tight together, screen reflected in his glasses lenses.

Ashley casted her wandering gaze back down to her phone, tapped the email then inhaled a shaking breath.

The buffering wheel spins.

Her screen blacks out.

“Wait, what?” she pressed the unlock button once then repeatedly but the device showed no sign of life.

She looked up at everyone else and judging by their glowing faces, they're still reading something where as she's stuck here with a phone that's flatlined on her because she opened a dodgy message, she didn't even know phones could get viruses –

It screams.

Her shoulders tense and a gasp escapes her, because it's not just a shock but it's familiar, the kind that pierced through chill winter winds, shook the rock and shadows underground and clawed its way into the cabin.

“Uh, was that you, Ash?” Chris asked. Everyone stares at her, startled by the faint echo that reached them.

“No... no! It was my – it was the...”

Bold white text suddenly appeared on the blank screen, NOT OVER NEVER OVER flashing faster and faster and she can't help but stare, eyes locked onto the erratic text as it starts forming static – it's like she can't look away, as if the text itself is gripping all her attention and refusing to let go – she's refusing to let go.

Oh, god, she should have let go.

This time the screech is accompanied by a face and Ashley shrieked, high-pitched and freezing the blood of her friends. She threw the phone to the ground and they all rushed over, Chris the first at her side. All she can do is cover her face with her hands and whimper 'Oh my gosh... oh my gosh...' over and over until it sounds like a mantra that will wake her up from this nightmare.

“Ash, what was it?” Chris tentatively wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

They already knew the answer.

“It was – it was – oh my god, oh my god!” It feels like her lungs are too small and she shakes her hands out as if it will give her the ability to breathe regularly.

“Just take a deep breath, okay?” Sam rested a hand on her shoulder and the group huddle closer together, each exchanging fearful glances.

“It was her – it. I swear it looked exactly like... like... Hannah.”

Even though they already knew the answer, they still gasp lightly as she speaks the name. It was so much easier calling her it and wendigo and any name that wasn't her own but the monster's. It was how they'd coped for the past three months.

“A-are you sure? Like, it wasn't just a really fucked up freaky looking face?” Chris suggested, looking from Ash to the phone in the middle of their small circle.

“No, no, no, no... no! I swear to god, Chris. Don't pull that crap again, I know what I saw!” Although she sounds infuriated by his disbelief, she still looks at him in desperation to take her seriously.

“Okay, Ash, we... we believe you. The only question is who sent it.” Mike checked his phone but his expression only reveals he didn't receive the answer he was looking for, not exactly.

“I only got the number three,” Jess said and everyone looks from Ashley to her.

“Wait, mine says two.” Mike turned his screen towards them to see for themselves.

“And mine had six,” Matt spoke, bewildered.

“Mine was one.” Sam drops her hand from Ashley's shoulder and turns on her phone to check.

“Five.” Ashley squinted pensively, already wondering if it was some kind of code.

They all watched Chris expectantly.

“Jesus, c-come on, guys! It's probably just some dumb prank.”

“Oh yeah? Who else knows all the shit we went through in detail, huh?” Matt tilted his head.

“Wait, in detail?” Ash repeated. “I just got... the scream thing.”

“You didn't get the story?”

“It wasn't a story, Mike, it was a complete rundown of the entire night – including me falling down a fucking elevator shaft in my underwear. I didn't get to finish reading the entire message, though.”

“I almost did,” Sam cut in, “but there was no mention of Hannah, apart from it being the anniversary of her and Beth's death. Whoever sent it didn't know Hannah turned.”

“But they knew about Josh,” Chris spoke. “I mean, them not knowing it was Hannah but putting so much focus on Josh... Maybe it was one of the cops that interviewed us but they just have a really sick sense of humour.”

“But why? What the hell is scaring us going to achieve?” Matt shrugged, question unanswered as the six friends try and make sense of it themselves.

“Emily?” Chris voiced.

“What, she sent it? I doubt it – she wants nothing to do with us and doesn't even know half of what it said in the message,” Matt stated.

Ashley stared at ground, lips pursed as she pondered on all the information available to her. Her eyes suddenly went wide with an idea and she timidly looked up for a second before crossing her arms and bracing herself for Chris' arm around her shoulders to disappear.

“Maybe... and I'm only saying this because it's the only thing I can think of and even though I don't want to say it I...” She took a breath. “Josh?”

His arm slips away.

“What?! No, Josh... Josh said he was sorry for the prank he wouldn't pull this kind of shit too – he wouldn't make us relive it - no fucking way. Come on, Sam, you gotta back me up.”

“I can see why you'd... suspect him, Ash, but Josh is genuinely sorry and he's suffered enough, he wouldn't put himself through writing all that.”

“Right, exactly! And how does he know what happened to Jess, Mike, Matt and even Emily in so much detail -”

“Okay, okay! I-I'm sorry, it was just... all I could think of, I was just desperate for some kind of... explanation.” Ashley's crossed arms tighten around her as she casts her eyes down in shame.

A heavy silence falls between everyone and it's deafening, as if the night sings it's own song that shakes the six friends to the marrow of their bones and the collective shiver that passes between them all is only a tremor of the nightmares to come, a ripple of the terror they'd suffered before.

Needless to say, no one slept that night and the morning light couldn't arrive early enough.

 

* * *

 

When Ashley anticipated the ringing of her alarm clock it's only because she needs something to tell her to get out of bed except for the sun coursing through the curtains, she doesn't have class until after midday and knows if she doesn't climb out from under the warmth of the covers she'll only want to cocoon herself until hunger makes her stomach growl. Thousands of vivid images flickered relentlessly in her head and had done ever since she rested it on her pillow and attempted to drift off into sleep; teeth and claws and milk-white eyes, blood, a spinning saw slicing Josh – the dummy – in two, blood, dolls with eyes that blink at her, Chris with a gun at his neck, blood.

Blood on her jacket, shorts, tights and boots (she threw them out), dried in her hair and under her fingernails (she wanted to wash her hands with bleach – Chris stopped her), blood congealing on her cheek and neck and she showered five times when she got home, scrubbing skin until it was blotchy but the red only reminded her of blood, even when she was clean of it.

Her alarm clock beeped and she immediately slapped a hand out to shut it off but her fingers lingered on the button as she stared at the blank white ceiling. The beeping continued faster and faster and the words NOT OVER NEVER OVER flashed in her memory.

She pressed the button, threw back the blanket and rushed to the closet; throwing on a pair of jeans and the first shirt her eyes find, loose-fitting and coloured peach. After tugging on her usual pair of black Chuck Taylor's she grabbed her bag and a black denim jacket then headed for the bus stop – she'd have enough time to brush her hair on the ride.

She stared out the window, leg bouncing up and down repetitively and when the idea of checking her phone crosses her mind she shoots it down, attempting to read a book – something Dickens, for class – but she can't focus on a single word and trying to read such long-winded paragraphs feels like digging through dry sand in her current frazzled state.

All she feels able to do is watch the world spin by and glance at the bus dwellers who drink their cardboard cups of coffee and catch whatever sleep they can on their way to work and school. Beside her a girl makes a cigarette, pinching tobacco before she rolls it up and twists an end then tucks it behind her ear, ready to light up as soon as her stop arrives.

Ashley's appeared sooner than expected and she almost forgets to say 'excuse me' before she tip-toes past the girl and steps off the bus.

Einstein Mental and Behavioral Centre is the first sign she reads, white against a blue gradient backdrop. She only delayed for a second, taking a breath before hurrying up the stairs and thorugh the doors; every surface is polished and white with regular intervals of blue and she can't help but think how she once saw an article about how blue was a lot less calming than people thought, how, psychologically, it kept you awake. But her mind digressed – avoiding why she'd come here in the first place.

She stated her intentions to the nurse at the reception, and after a welcoming smile and brief phone call, is told to take a seat to wait. She sits in the nearest chair available and her phone buzzes in her bag but she didn't check, heel tapping against the floor as her knee bobs up and down. The nurse glanced at her and her leg stills. She hears footsteps approaching but it's only a therapist, she guesses by the clipboard under their arm and therapists having that general vibe about them, that despite how approachable they try to be with their woven wool sweater vests and plants dotted around their office, they still have Doctor before their full name and you still have to pay to see them.

When the sound of footsteps faded, she looks down the hall restlessly and the first thing she sees are slippers and grey sweatpants, then a simple shirt in the same colour contrasting with golden-brown skin. The brown-haired boy yawns widely and rubs his eyes, drawing closer until the two are only a foot apart. Ashley stands up, gripping the strap of her bag because her hands won't stop shaking and the boy finally opens his eyes.

He stares and freezes, both silent and unsure. It feels like all the time she's spent refusing to see him; refusing Chris and Sam's endless offers to just give him a chance has accumulated into this single meeting.

She wants to slap herself for not seeing him as soon as they found out where he was being treated.

He blinked, mouth opening and closing and all they both do is stare, except it's like he's trying to figure out if she's actually real or not while she waits for him to say something – anything.

He breaks the silence.

“Ash?”

“H-hi... Josh.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm basically a willing servant to these poor kids and the possible outcome of what could happen after the game so naturally I plan a multichap fic where they address their PTSD and go on Scooby-Doo adventures. Then I go ahead and write the first chapter. Rest in fucking pieces, I guess.


End file.
